


Captain Rivia

by Drakool



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - The Witcher Fusion, Awkward Flirting, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Death, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, How Do I Tag, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Monster Hunters, My First Fanfic, Novigrad (The Witcher), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Revenge, Sorry Not Sorry, The Witcher Lore, Toussaint (The Witcher), Vampires, Witcher Contracts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2020-10-13 09:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20580509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drakool/pseuds/Drakool
Summary: One witcher.Two sorceresses.You already know where this is going, don't you?No, you don't....well, unless your answer was "chained to a bed".To erase unpleasant memories, Steve of Rivia decides to take part in the Grand Knights Tournament in Toussaint.However, even if love has left his life, unexpected events might bring it back, whether he wants it or not.





	1. Novigrad hath no fury like two hearts of love drain'd

**Author's Note:**

> I *might* have been playing The Witcher 3 a bit too much lately instead of studying for my exams, and this is the result: a story based on the events that happen in the game, but with an Avenger twist to it.  
I have never written in English before, so you'll likely come across some mistakes (yay, proofreading). You have been warned. I am not to be held responsible for sanity loss.  
Okay, I've already annoyed you long enough. Now, sit back, relax, and let me know what you think of this work, thanks <3

Steve of Rivia stood there, in front of the closed door. Inside, Natasha Merigold and Peggy of Vengerberg were waiting for him. Natasha had told him to bring wine, lots of wine. He glanced at the two bottles he was holding in his hand. Erveluce, no less, a true delight from the sun-kissed lands of Toussaint. He had tried getting his hands on a bottle of Est Est, but no merchants seemed to have it in stock. He shrugged. It wasn’t that important, after all.

Steve took a deep breath. He still couldn’t believe it. He was about to have a threesome with Natasha and Peggy! That was one of his deepest desires, something he deemed would only be possible in his wildest dreams. And yet, there he was. He had even made an effort and dressed in a doublet, breeches and slippers. He would’ve preferred his old trustworthy armor, but… for this time, he would’ve made an exception. Steve knocked at the door and walked in the room.

Natasha and Peggy, naked hadn’t it been for the lingerie, appeared at his sides and clung to him, resting their heads on Steve’s shoulders. He took a moment to look at them. As always, Peggy was dressed in a bright shade of red, while Natasha’s lingerie was black and cyan with golden motifs. The smirk on his face widened, his white teeth shining in the candlelight. It would’ve been one hell of a night.

“Finally,” Peggy purred, “we thought you wouldn’t have come.”

“I’d have never missed this, not even for all the crowns in Novigrad.”

Natasha took the bottles of Erveluce from his hands and put it on a table by the window, near even more wine, three goblets and silver platters filled with grapes, dried fruit and candies. Steve couldn’t help but lick his lips. This looked rather promising. She glanced at him and smiled before heading toward the queen-sized bed.

“Dressed to impress, have we?” Peggy took his hand and moaned: “Come with me, big boy.”

Steve let Peggy led him near the bed. She tore off his silken doublet, not wanting to waste time on unbuttoning all those annoying buttons. In a matter of seconds, his pants vanished as well. Peggy bit her lower lip and gave him a seductive look. She nimbly run her fingers over the scars that covered his chest before pushing him onto the bed.

Natasha was already lying down on the mattress, head propped up on her right hand, and was soon joined by Peggy. They gently touched his battle-scarred skin, making him chuckle. The two girls glanced at each other and kissed, slowly, without haste, whilst Steve was looking at them, eagerly awaiting what would’ve come next.

Peggy kissed the back of Steve’s hand and slowly moved it toward the headboard of the bed. Natasha, smiling, gently nibbled his fingers before shackling to the iron handcuffs that were partially hidden under the colorful cushions. The handcuffs were tight around his wrists. Steve closed his eyes and smiled. They were playing that game, then? Finally, the fun was about to begin. It was about time. He couldn’t have waited any longer, it was driving him crazy.

Instead, Natasha and Peggy got up. Steve opened his eyes. Playing hard to get, huh? The two girls were standing near the table, Natasha holding two crystal goblets, one in each hand, while Peggy popped open one of the bottles of Erveluce and filled them one-third full. Natasha and Peggy gave the win a good swirl and then took a small sip, savoring it to the fullest.

“Do I get one of you beautiful girls to make me drink since…” he made the chains jingle, and raised his eyebrows, smiling at them.

Natasha and Peggy glanced at him, but said nothing. Natasha nodded and Peggy filled both goblets to the brim. Steve wasn’t understanding what was going on. Then, suddenly, the girls emptied their goblets on the floor, staining the red and gold handwoven carpet that covered the underlying wooden planks.

The witcher looked at them, befuddled. “What are you doing?” he uttered.

“This,” Peggy showed him the empty goblet, “is us,” she said, pointing at Natasha and herself.

“And that,” Natasha indicated the spilled wine that was staining the carpet, “is our love for you.”

“We are tired of this, Steve,” Peggy carried on, her arms crossed on her chest, “and since it seems you can’t choose who you want to be with, we chose for you.”

“Neither of us,” Natasha hissed at him.

“Is this some kind of joke? Because this isn’t funny anymore!” Steve said, shocked.

“You got what you deserved, Steve,” Peggy purred before heading for the door, her clothes in her hands, Natasha a few steps behind her.

“Hey, untie me!” he said, but the girls paid no attention to him whatsoever. Natasha and Peggy waved as they left the room leaving the witcher chained to the bed, alone.

“Natasha! Peggy! Come back!” he cried, but they didn’t come back. The planks under the mattress creaked as Steve shook the chains hoping to break them, but they turned out to be too strong, even for a witcher. He sighed and rested his head on one of the cushions. Hours of pointless shaking later, he fell asleep.

The following morning Steve was woken up by steps on the creaky, old wooden stairs that led to the last floor of the inn, where the room he was in was located. The door opened and before him, smartly dressed as always, was Tony ‘Dandelion’.

Tony shook his head. “Well, well, well, would you look at that. The witcher, tied to the bed by the girls. I’m pretty sure it used to be the other way around,” he chuckled.

“Save it, or as soon as I get free it’s your head I’m coming after,” Steve barked.

Tony took a step back. “Whoa, don’t get all worked up now, my dear friend.”

“Did you know about this, Tony?” Steve asked, trying not to look angry at the bard.

“No, not until this morning, otherwise I would’ve very much liked to be here and witness the fall and caging of the almighty ‘Golden Wolf’,” Tony said, tilting his head slightly to the left, a wide smile on his face.

“Tony!” Steve said, exasperated, “Shut up and untie me already!” he roared at him.

“All right, sorry but I really couldn’t resist. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, my friend,” Tony chuckled and took a key out of one of his pockets. He quickly unchained the witcher and helped him out of the bed. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” Steve said, taking the doublet and pants that Tony was handing out to him.

“So, how do you feel? Your heart must be broken into pieces.”

“It is, but they were right. I got what I deserved.” He finished dressing and looked into the mirror. The only thing left to do now was getting rid of those uncomfortable tight clothes. He wanted to be back in his armor as soon as possible.

“You know too little about women, my friend. I’d be glad to give you some advice on that matter should you want any,” Tony said before picking a candy from a platter and throwing it into his mouth.

“Ugh, can you go five second without talking about women?” the witcher sighed.

“Can you go five seconds without jumping from one sorceress to another?” Tony replied, apparently offended by Steve’s words.

“Said the man notorious for all the women left behind in his wake,” Steve murmured, arms crossed on his chest.

Tony chuckled. “All right, I plead guilty to all charges. Now, does our beloved witcher want some advice on how to court the beautiful lasses of Novigrad?”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” the witcher replied, approaching the door, “So long, Tony.”

His friend nodded. “See you around, Steve.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I should probably be stu(dying), but you know what? Gonna have a beer now.   
Just like our beloved witcher Steve.   
Although I'd probably black out after the second one...  
*sighs*

Steve downed another beer. He was having a drink (or better, quite a few drinks) at the Rosemary and Thyme, sitting at a table right in front of the stage where Tony and his fiancée, Pepper ‘Callonetta’ were performing together.

The witcher leaned forward. It was hard to believe, but apparently Pepper had made full recovery from the formaldehyde attack and her voice was even more beautiful than before, though even more unbelievable was the fact that Tony, the notorious ladies man, had finally decided to settle down with her in Novigrad.

Steve smiled, but behind that façade he felt sorrow. Tony had been with many women during the years, and yet there he was, running his very own tavern and playing the lute in front a captivated audience, Pepper singing by his side.

Steve, on the other hand, was alone. He had lost both Peggy and Natasha. Perhaps that’s why he had been drinking almost every night after Red Skull Eredin had been defeated. Now that the Wild Hunt was no more, he needed a distraction, and spending all of his time drinking at the Rosemary and Thyme seemed to be just what he needed.

It proved to be a good distraction. Too good, actually. It got to the point where Steve hung his shield on the wall. Literally. Steve’s shield was now on display in the tavern, hung behind the counter for the patrons to admire. The wolf head engraved in the shield wasn’t so menacing now.

Steve hadn’t killed a single monster – literal monsters, even if one may argue humans often do deserve to be called that word – in months. No more contracts, no more monster hunting and slaying. Only drinking. Once a great witcher, now nothing more than the shadow of his former self. What a sorry view. He couldn’t help it. He reached for another beer and downed it in one gulp.

As Steve was wallowing in self-pity, the door of the tavern was swung open. A blond-bearded dwarf appeared on the threshold, one hand tightly wrapped around a battleax, the other clutching a leather satchel. “Steve!” shouted Thor Chivay, “Steve!” he repeated, storming into the tavern looking for the witcher.

Steve stood up and waved at him, gesturing him not to interrupt Tony and Pepper’s performance. The dwarf approached him and sat down on a stool. He was breathing heavily and was all covered in sweat. Steve frowned. No blood? The witcher wasn’t sure whether it was the real Thor or a doppelgänger who was sitting right in front of him.

After ordering a couple of beers for himself, Thor turned his attention to Steve. “Steve, I’ve got something very, very special for you,” he said, excited, while searching for something inside his satchel, cursing because he wasn’t finding whatever he was looking for.

“What is it?” the witcher asked.

“Well, you see, I was playing a few rounds of Gwent at the Kingfisher with that banker, Vivaldi, remember him?” he said, hand still deep inside the satchel, “Anyway, as we were playing, a man in full armor burst into the tavern and shouted: ‘Who knows where I can find Steve of Rivia?’, so I got up and asked him why he was looking for you, and then-”

“Thor, cut to the point,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. Yes, it definitely was Thor.

“All right. This knight came all the way from Toussaint to deliver a letter – this letter,” he said, putting a sealed envelope on the table, careful not to wet it with spilled beer, “to you on behalf of Duchess Wanda Henrietta. Word has it you’ve been invited to take part in this year’s Grand Knights Tournament in Toussaint.”

Astonished, Steve took the envelope. “What? Are you serious?” Steve tore it open with his hands and as he read the letter, he discovered the dwarf was indeed right. He had truly been invited, and by none other than the Duchess herself. He recognized her handwriting as he read.

The dwarf nodded while slurping with delight the beer the waitress had just handed him. Thor cleaned his blond beard with the sleeve of his shirt before saying: “You should go, Steve. The tourney will distract you from… well, you know what. Besides, it’s not wise to turn down Duchess Wanda’s invite. You know her, after all.”

“Yeah, you’re right, Thor. I should probably give it a go. Even if I am not the embodiment of the five chivalric virtues, I may still be able to win this tourney,” Steve mumbled to himself, thinking whether to stay or go. The latter he deemed wiser.

The dwarf burst into laughter. “Those knights-errant stand no chance against a seasoned and skilled witcher. Go show those bunch of sissies what you can do! Here’s to you, Steve!” Thor heaved the mug of beer in the air before downing it. He burped loudly and laughed again.

“Here’s to me!” Steve finished his beer and moved on to the next, which perhaps was a bad idea considered he was starting to see double and his head was spinning like crazy. He stared at the reflection of his face and laughed. Matters of such little importance were a waste of his time.

Without giving it a second thought, he guzzled the beer down in a few seconds. Although it did quench his thirst, it also was the last straw. The witcher laughed again and then blacked out. A sorry view indeed. A facepalm would’ve been very appropriate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know it's short, but then again: exams.  
Next one will be a bit longer and even more useless than this one, yay!   
R e j o i c e!


	3. Welcome to Toussaint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has finally arrived in Toussaint and is now ready to join the tourney.  
Problem. Where the hell is the tourney held?  
A few question and a crayfish soup later, our beloved witcher finally manages to join the lists.  
After going through a "few" stacks of papers, that is.  
Yes, it's as boring as it sounds, if not even more.
> 
> Luckily for you, that part has been left out :)

“Whoa, Roach.”

The horse came to a stop and Steve dismounted. From atop the hill he took in the beautiful, sun-drenched duchy of Toussaint. The view stretched for miles and miles before his eyes over a land covered in vineyards and dense forests, a land where valor, honor, compassion, generosity and wisdom were regarded as the highest of virtues.

Far off in the distance he could clearly see the magnificent Palace of Beauclair. Situated on a hill above the capital city of Toussaint, the elven-built palace was home to the ruling duchess, Wanda Henrietta. Steve hadn’t seen her since the last time he had been to Toussaint years before and, as Steve expected, Toussaint was thriving under her reign.

Taking part to the tourney was a breath of fresh air for Steve, a distraction he desperately needed. Without even knowing it, Anna had saved his life, prevented him from spiraling even further down the alcohol addiction. The least Steve could do to show her his gratitude was thanking her for inviting him to the tourney.

“Come on, Roach,” Steve said to his horse, snapping the reins.

Roach hurried down the hill, trotting toward a nearby bridge. A few buildings, one of which was probably an inn, stood at its closest end. He would’ve stopped there to ask a few questions. Steve had no idea where the tourney was taking place, only that it was somewhere not far off Beauclair. And where he would’ve found the arena, he was sure he would’ve also found Wanda.

Steve tightly tied Roach to a fence before wandering off toward a building. In front of it, a bunch of people were chattering, glasses of wine in their hands. A promising sign. As Steve approached the bridge, he noticed the wooden sign hanging from the white wall to his left: it depicted a Cockatrice. Steve smiled. Nasty beasts. The witcher entered the inn and walked up to the counter. The innkeeper looked straight at him.

“Yes?” he said while cleaning a mug.

“I need directions. Where does the Grand Knights Tournament take place? I have to get there.”

“Very well. Go past the bridge,” he said pointing behind Steve, “and follow the main road toward Beauclair. You will see a vineyard on your right, Corvo Bianco, take a right turn just past it and then go straight uphill and you’ll get there in no time. Now, would you like something to eat?”

Steve nodded at the man. “Thanks – and yes, I’ll have some crayfish chowder, heard yours’ the best around.”

“Quite correct sir, it truly is the best. So, one crayfish chowder coming right up. Please, have a seat.”

After having spent the entire day riding, being off Roach for a while was a bliss. Steve looked around for a table from where he could keep an eye on the doorway – just in case. The one in the corner was the obvious choice.

Steve unfastened the shield on his back and held it in his hands, staring at it. He hadn’t intended to bring his shield along, an ordinary sword would’ve done too, but he knew that there were way too many threats to leave it hanging at the Rosemary and Thyme. Besides, he would’ve needed a silver and a steel sword, whereas his shield worked perfectly against both humans and monsters. Steve loosened a sigh.

As he was finally sitting down, a maid placed the chowder and a bottle of wine in front of his eyes. He hadn’t ordered any wine at all and therefore hadn’t expected any. Steve glanced at the maid who had served him.

“Wine’s on the house,” she said with a smile on her face, winking at him before walking away.

Steve shook his head. She was indeed cute, but after what had happened with Peggy and Natasha, he felt no sexual desire anymore. Steve ate his soup and drank his wine in silence, still thinking of that fateful night. The thought of Peggy and Natasha had killed his mood. Once he was finished, he walked back to the counter and paid for both his meal and the bottle of wine. Then, he left.

Roach greeted him with a neigh. Steve untied the reins, mounted, and crossed the bridge, headed toward the tourney. The sun was high above his head and birds were chirping. Moreover, he hadn’t seen a monster all day. What a beautiful day it was.

Steve passed Corvo Bianco and its vineyards and turned right. A dirt path led uphill. He could hear joyous voices in the distance and flags waving in the wind above the trees. Not even a couple of minutes later Steve arrived at the tournament. To his surprise, the innkeeper had been right. Steve dismounted and continued on foot, Roach a few steps behind him.

Steve approached a bored guard and asked the whereabouts of the scribe so he could register and enter the tourney. The man directed him toward the ruined stone gatehouse of what was once a keep. Minutes later, Steve was standing inside the inscription tent, where an old scribe was hard at work. As soon as he noticed Steve, he stopped.

“Greetings! How may I help you, sir?” he asked, standing up.

“Greetings. I am Steve of Rivia. I’m here to join the lists.”

“Ah, yes, Her Illustrious Highness had mentioned your name, sir Steve.” The old man neared a rack from which a shield and breastplate bearing the emblem of Rivia were hanging. “Here, take these. Made by the best blacksmith of Nazair, as requested by Her Illustrious Highness.”

“Hm. Her Grace should’ve known that I use no shield other than this,” the witcher said, patting the shield strapped to his back. The wolf head didn’t seem to be too fond of the newcomer. Its silver teeth shone with hostility and its eyes were filled with hate.

“You don’t have to use it, should you want not to. Keep it as a souvenir, something to commemorate your participation in this year’s tourney.”

“In that case, thanks.”

“Now, let’s get to the… not-so-fun bureaucratic part. There are a few documents you’ll have to fill in-” and pointed to a stack of papers sitting atop a table covered in books and scrolls.

“Great,” Steve murmured with a sigh.

“But first, have you been informed about the challenges and prizes of the tourney? It’s just a formality, but I have to ask nonetheless. If not, please allow me to tell you about them.”

“No – please, enlighten me, then.”

“Very well, sir. You will face three challenges. A shooting range, where you’ll show your marksmanship. A horse race, where you’ll earn more time for each target or dummy hit with… erm… your shield. And finally, a melee combat in the arena. The last one standing will face last year’s champion.”

“Is that all?” Steve asked, feeling suddenly relieved.

“I’m afraid not, sir. You see, knights swear on something they hold closest to their heart, a vow to which they hold for the duration of the tourney. So, what will it be? Upon what would you like to vow?”

Steve kept quiet for a few seconds, then cleared his throat. “I vow on…”

Half an hour or so later, Steve left the tent and stretched his arms. Those were way too many papers to either fill or sign, he couldn’t feel his hand anymore. Miraculously, the sun was still shining in the sky. He had lost track of time in there, but luckily now it was over. Steve could’ve sworn he had never felt that relived in his entire life.

Steve glanced at the scroll clutched in his hand. It was done. Now he was officially inscribed to the Grand Knights Tournament. With a large smile on his face, the witcher walked off toward the tent he had been assigned, not far from the arena.

It was time to get the show on the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Exams are over, so that means I can now fully concentrate on writing this-  
Right, new D&D campaign starting next week.  
Aaaaand university is starting next week as well.  
...  
Well, s***.


	4. A Handsome Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hear ye! Hear ye!  
The last challenge awaits!  
Surprisingly, the witcher stands alone against the champion in charge.  
So far, so good.  
But of course, here comes the party crasher... a beautiful, handsome, party crasher.  
The fight is on!  
And so is the humor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There *may* be a couple of quotes related to The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim and Monty Python =)

The day of the long-awaited melee combat had finally arrived. Steve was eager for it to begin. The challenges he had faced in the previous days were so easy he was about to die of boredom. No, I mean, I’m dead serious! Steve had won against all of his adversaries without encountering the slightest difficulty. Thor was right. These knights were nothing but a bunch of egocentric sissies, all hat and no cattle. But maybe, just maybe, all grouped together would be at least a bit of a challenge.

Steve finished polishing his shield. He lifted it up and took a good look at it. The sun reflected on its shiny surface, blinding the witcher for a moment. He smiled. Blind and strike. That sure was a very… bright idea. Steve laughed with contentment and ran a hand through his blond hair. He got up and checked his armor and equipment one more time. Everything was ready. He was ready. Now he only had to wait for someone to-

With the corner of its eye he noticed a young boy running down the road, headed right for him. “Well, speak of the devil…” Steve murmured, strapping the shield to his back.

The young boy stopped a few feet away and paused for a few seconds, catching his breath. “Sir Steve of Rivia?” the boy whispered, still breathing heavily. “The battle at the arena will start shortly. You are therefore to gather at the front gate and prepare for the upcoming challenge. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

That said, the page was off again, running toward yet another tent. Steve followed him with his gaze and then left for the arena. There was no haste in getting there, he could take his sweet time and enjoy a walk to calm his nerves before the final battle. He was sure to be the one to face off the champion in charge, but by the time he would have to fight him, Steve would be tired and sweaty after battling against the other contestants, and that worried him. He had to spare his energies if he wanted to win.

By the time Steve arrived at the arena, almost everyone else was there. He greeted them and started chatting with the ones he had made friend with during those days. A few minutes later, all the participants were there and eager to begin. All of a sudden, the trumpets blared and people started screaming and shouting. Then, silence fell.

One voice broke the silence, a voice Steve recognized immediately. Wanda Henrietta was now giving a speech to the audience who was impatiently waiting for the knights to enter and fight each other. He still hadn’t had a chance to talk to the Duchess, but was looking forward to doing so once he had won the tourney.

People started clapping and the doors opened before him.

Now, however, it was time for Steve to kick some knights’ asses.

Steve smacked the knight in front of him with his shield, sending him flying a few feet. The knight hit the ground hard and didn’t get up. Steve wiped off the sweat on his forehead. There were only a couple more adversaries still standing and they, just like him, were sweating and panting. The fight was starting to take its toll on Steve. He needed to get it over with as fast as he could, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to take down the champion in charge.

Steve licked his lips. Two more. He could do it. Bring it on, then. The witcher threw his shield with all the strength he had and hit one of the knights right on the side of the helmet. A perfect hit. The man groaned and collapsed to the ground in a matter of seconds. One down, one to go.

The remaining knight charged at Steve. Steve dodged the attack and sent his shield flying straight toward the man’s head. As the knight turned, he was greeted by a flying piece of steel. The shield hit the visor of the helmet, stunning the knight, who fell on his knees. Steve walked up to him and smacked the shield on the top of the helmet. Knocked unconscious, his adversary went down in a cloud of dust.

Steve couldn’t believe it. And yet… he was the last one standing.

Moments later, a gigantic man in Nilfgaardian armor joined Steve inside the arena, his hands tightly wrapped around the hilt of a Zweihänder. The crowd started cheering and rooting even louder than before. That was him, the nilfgaardian who had gone undefeated for three years in a row. The champion in charge, the only one standing between Steve and his long-awaited victory.

The champion started spinning his sword and slowly paced toward Steve, cackling. The witcher raised his trustworthy shield and braced himself for the imminent attack. That giant was taking his sweet time to cross the arena, and that gave Steve plenty of time to think. He was sure the nilfgaardian relied on his brute force and skills rather than his intelligence, so if only Steve would’ve managed to pull a trick on him once he-

Steve froze. His medallion was tingling. A chill ran down his spine. Something bad was about to happen. Suddenly a trail of black smoke flew right past him and crashed into the champion’s chest. Steve blinked. The smoke disappeared and in its place was a man dressed in black from toe to head, his long black hair blowing in the wind, his left arm as shiny as if it was made of metal. For a moment, Steve forgot how to breathe.

Then came a scream. A scream of pain. Only then did Steve notice the long claws deep into the champion’s chest. And that’s when the witcher realized that the man standing in front of him was nothing less than a higher vampire. The crowd was already fleeing in panic, heading as fast as they could for the nearest exit.

Steve didn’t hesitate any longer. He changed the grip on his shield and threw it at the vampire, hitting his shoulder. The monster roared and pulled out the claws from the body of the champion. Steve was worried he didn’t have enough energies to face a higher vampire, but he had to try nonetheless. The vampire turned to face Steve.

“Stay out of this! I have no quarrel with you!” he roared.

“Like hell I will! You’re trying to kill the very person I have to beat to win this tourney!” Steve said, glad – and it took him a long time to convince himself of it – that the vampire had turned his attention to him.

The vampire pointed at Steve with his claws. “Back off now or I swear I will unleash my wrath and smite you to whatever there is after life!”

“Awww, how cute.” the witcher whispered, smiling.

“That does it! Prepare yourself!”

“No, prepare _yourself_!” Steve launched his shield once again, but this time the vampire was ready and dodged his attack. Then, he darted toward Steve.

The witcher quickly closed the distance between them. A wicked smile glimpsed on the vampire’s lips. Then, suddenly, Steve ducked and slid on the ground, catching the vampire by surprise. He was even more surprised when the shield hit him in the back of the head and sent him tumbling in the dust.

“Oh great, a concussion…” the vampire mumbled, massaging his head as he got up.

A short distance away, Steve burst in laughter. Oh man, this vampire sure was funny. It had been a long time since he had had that much fun during a fight.

The vampire was shaking with rage. “Are you making fun of me?!”

Steve rolled his eyes and shrugged. “As if it weren’t obvious already…”

“Then parry this, you filthy witcher!”

The vampire charged Steve, moving so quickly the witcher barely had time to react. Steve raised his shield just in time and felt the sharp claws scrape against the cold steel. The impact pushed Steve back and almost made fall him to the ground.

With a few quick jumps the vampire retreated to the other side of the arena. He was breathing heavily and covered in sweat, his long black hair stuck to his forehead. Steve’s heart skipped a beat.

“Impossible!” the vampire uttered, astonished, “How the hell are you not dead?! What is that damned shield made of?!”

“Of something even your claws can’t pierce.” Steve replied, a look of glee in his eyes.

The vampire, clearly frustrated, shouted: “Fool! I’m giving you one last chance! Surrender already and your death will be quick and painless.”

Steve scoffed at the vampire’s words. “Dream on, you fiend!”

“You’re gonna regret challenging the almighty-”

A sharp, sibilant sound caught Steve’s attention. The vampire screamed in anger as an arrow hit him in the back of the shoulder. Moments later, he took an arrow in the knee. More arrows started falling around them, and some would’ve hit Steve hadn’t he sought cover behind his trustworthy shield. Steve’s gaze darted toward the tribune. Two brave archers were shooting arrow after arrow in the vampire’s general direction. Well, at least they weren’t farting in his general direction.

The vampire turned and hissed at them – momentarily forgetting about Steve. The witcher didn’t let the opportunity slip through his fingers. He took a deep breath and threw the shield with all his strength – hoping it would be the final blow to knock out that edgy vampire.

With a swift movement of his arm, the vampire hit the shield with his claws. The shield flew across the arena, bounced off a wall and then came back – much to Steve’s dismay – headed for the archers. The two soldiers had no time to react. The shield hit one of their helmets, bounced off it, and then hit the other. In less than a few seconds both archers were rendered unconscious.

In the brief silence that followed, Steve could hear men shouting and heavy steps approaching. The Ducal Guard was closing in fast. The witcher couldn’t help but smile at the vampire, a smile that spelled ‘defeat’. The higher vampire gritted his teeth and turned to mist.

The smile vanished from Steve’s lips. “Hey! Where do you think you’re going?”

The mist disappeared beyond the walls of the arena and Steve lost sight of it. He wouldn’t have been able to keep up with it with all the soldiers who were now flowing into the arena. Steve sighed heavily. Curse them! Their timing couldn’t have been worse.

Steve was about to head off to his tent, tired and covered in sweat, when he noticed a piece of scroll on the ground. As he picked it up, a voice called his name. “Steve of Rivia!”

Steve froze and turned. “Her illustrious Grace…” he murmured, bowing to duchess Wanda Henrietta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me way too long to write this chapter, and I really hope you all enjoyed it =D  
(You'd better have, otherwise I'll come looking for you)
> 
> I guess it's safe to say we all know who the higher vampire is...  
More to come in the next chapter! Stay tuned, folks! :D


	5. Clues And Vampire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is not convinced by the words of Wanda Henrietta. There must be something more to this.
> 
> And that something awaits him at the ruins of a long-abandoned castle.
> 
> It's time to face the vampire once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long... I so much love university...
> 
> Sorry everyone, I'll try to post at least one or two more chapters before Xmas, I'll do my best <3

The duchess rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Drop the formalities, Steve. There’s no need for them. Now, come with me. There are a few pressing issues we need to discuss.”

“Lead the way,” the witcher said, but the duchess was already ahead of him.

Steve quickly tucked the dusty piece of scroll in one of his pockets and followed the duchess to her private tent. As they sat down at a table, the Ducal Guard surrounded the building, a precautionary measure that would’ve been of little to no help against a higher vampire. Those men were not trained against that kind of danger. Although Steve didn’t like admitting it, they were nothing but cannon fodder.

The witcher looked at Wanda Henrietta in the eyes. “What’s all this about?”

“I’m sure you already figured I didn’t have you come all the way to Toussaint just so you could participate in the tourney, didn’t you?”

“I had the suspect, but now I am sure. To put it simple, you need help, and no ordinary help either – a witcher’s help. What for?” Steve leaned over the table.

“Straight to the point as always, I see…” the queen murmured, then sighed. “Some of my best knights have been killed, Steve, and until today, we had no idea who was responsible for this. All the corpses had those… claw marks, but we would’ve never have thought-”

“…that you were up against a higher vampire.” Steve ended the sentence in her place.

“Exactly. We thought of a beast smart enough to carefully pick its targets, that’s why I have summoned you here. We had no idea it was this serious.”

“The fact that the beast was capable of rational thought would’ve been serious enough for you to be worried – really worried. But a higher vampire… this higher vampire… he’s not killing for his own amusement. There’s something behind these attacks, no doubt.”

The duchess raised her voice. “He’s a beast! He’s killed some of my best men for no reason at all, unprovoked! He only kills to please his bloodthirst with the blood of my valiant knights! It’s is nothing more than a dangerous beast!”

“No – it’s not right. There must be something else…” Steve murmured, deep in thought. Then, he looked at the duchess straight into her eyes. “Henrietta, I’d like to know more about the men this vampire has killed. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to track down the vampire before he has time to regenerate his wounds.”

The duchess sighed. “Thanks, Steve. Thanks, on behalf of all of Toussaint.”

“Thank me once this vampire will no longer be a threat.”

The witcher stood up, bowed, and left the tent, tiredness and doubt in his blue eyes.

Steve was confused. The vampire hadn’t sustained critical wounds and yet he had fled the battlefield. Why though? He could’ve easily taken on the soldiers without as much as breaking a sweat. But the vampire wasn’t here to kill the soldiers, the witcher realized. He had only attacked Steve and-

Steve looked at the Nilfgaardian champion. His body still laid in the center of the arena; his eyes wide open looked up at the sky. The vampire had achieved what he came for. Still, Steve couldn’t understand what the man had done to enrage the vampire. That was something the witcher would have to look into, at some point. But first…

Steve fiddled with the piece of scroll he had found earlier. Although he had no idea where the vampire had gone to, he hoped the small fragment yielded some information he could use to find the vampire’s lair, or at least some of his weaknesses.

But Steve wasn’t going to find any of that if he wasn’t going to open it and read whatever was written on it – if there was anything written at all. Steve’s heart began racing faster and faster. Everything depended on that tiny, dusty fragment.

He carefully unwrapped it and… lines upon lines of such bad handwriting Steve could make out only a few of those words. Nevertheless, he managed to understand what he was holding in his hands: an old letter. And there, hidden between those lines, one word, one name, emerged.

‘_Astre’_. Steve whispered, slowly lifting his gaze from the letter in a very dramatic way. The green specks in his blue eyes glistened in the sunlight.

That was more than enough for him. There was only one place in Toussaint that bore said name, a ruined castle close to Lac Célavy which went by the name of Fort Astre.

The witcher frowned as he remembered the story of that place. An impossible challenge. The death of a father. The despair of a daughter. The death of many suiters. The refusal to marry her after so many had died. And her death, a girl falling into the void, ready to meet her end. Steve gulped. A chill ran down his spine. He hoped things would go very differently for him. And for the vampire.

He recalled his face from less than an hour before. Steve could’ve denied it all he wanted, but it would’ve meant denying the obvious: that vampire _was_ indeed cute. And if Steve was right, there would’ve been no reason to kill him. Probably. The witcher wanted to talk to the vampire first, hear him out. To Steve the vampire seemed like the kind of person one could reason with. So why not give it a go? What was the worse that could’ve happened-

Oh, right. Dying. There was that. Not exactly what Steve was looking forward to, but then again – he was a witcher. Risk was part of his job. And so was death. He had accepted it long time ago.

Steve went back to his tent to gather his gear. Roach greeted him when she saw him approaching, a red apple in one hand – a little present for her he had ‘borrowed’ from a bowl on his way back.

The witcher went through all of his stuff, throwing stuff around the tent until he found what he was searching for: Black Blood and Vampire Oil. Although he hoped it wouldn’t come to another fight, Steve had to be always ready for the worst. He couldn’t let his guard down. That would’ve surely meant death.

Without ever looking back, Steve set off toward Fort Astre. He couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened next. At the moment he was picturing in his mind a dinner by candlelight with a topless vamp-

Steve shook his head. “Come on Roach!” he shouted, trying to get those thoughts out of his head.

A few hours later Steve finally arrived at Fort Astre. As he walked past the main gate, he drew his shield and looked around, fearing a sudden ambush by the handsome vampire. The eyes on the wolf’s head glowed red, but the witcher didn’t seem to notice.

The courtyard was empty. There was no one there, nor there were any supplies that might have indicated a recent camp. Everything was still and silent, the only sound was the wind blowing through the cracked walls of the castle.

Then, something on the left caught his attention. He quickly turned, shield raised, his body ready to dodge at the slightest sign of danger. He dust settled before his eyes.

There, in front of him, stood the dark-haired vampire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was our beloved Bucky meant to appear in this chapter? Yes.
> 
> Also: suspeeeeeeense!
> 
> Stay tuned ^.^


End file.
